


(Are We Safe Yet)

by coffeehousehaunt



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Everyone is bad at being normal, F/F, I know 'red wolves' IRL are basically wolves with a slightly more coyote-like coloring, I needed something more extreme than that okay?, Lactose-intolerant Carmilla Karnstein, Lola Perry might be a demigod, Mentions of canon violence and character death, Pining, Some processing of trauma, Srsly there's so much processing in lesbian relationships, Unrealistic depictions of lesbian processing, Unrealistic depictions of wolves, and I had to keep it within the tropes, ginger puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 12:05:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12298893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeehousehaunt/pseuds/coffeehousehaunt
Summary: One month after everything ended: Four of them are cohabitating. Nothing is right; but nothing iswrong, either.Except now, there's a dire wolf living with them, and no one can be 100% sure that it's Danny Lawrence--but no one can be 100% sure that itisn't, either.But it's a great excuse for the gang to process everything that's changed, and for a few things to come to light. For Laura to realize her feelings aren't as cut-and-dried as she keeps wishing they were. And maybe Carmilla doesn't hate Danny Lawrence as much as she claims.(She's still gonna snark about it.)





	(Are We Safe Yet)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unlikelycourse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unlikelycourse/gifts).



> Title from "Animals" by Lion-S.

They’d almost settled into a routine; after the world ending, after a Lot Of People Dying. Almost gotten a little bit of stability back into their lives. 

And then it went to hell. 

They’d cleaned up a house that had been abandoned in the chaos around the university and were sharing it—“Them” being Laura, Carmilla, Laf, and Perry. Once they’d made sure the house was free of occult presences—kind of a lost cause, in Carmilla’s opinion, given their location—they’d settled in rather quickly. Or maybe they were all just so, so tired. 

Once they’d recovered from the immediate shock of everything they’d just experienced, things started to pop up that felt almost downright homey. 

Mostly thanks to Perry, Carmilla thinks, who took on the task of making this house livable and safe and routine so intently she saw exactly why _Maman_ had picked this girl. She was, if anything, stronger than Laura. More rigid, which would be a problem for all of them when she finally broke, but Carmilla is too tired and shaken to know how to begin to approach her. 

Perry started their trek out silent, not looking at anyone, only looking around them, like the world was full of shades; Carmilla shudders quietly, not wanting to know what ghosts _Maman_ left her with, knowing that they likely didn’t know a fraction of whatever awful things _Maman_ did in her body. 

Laf seems to know how to get through to her—it usually involves trying to do whatever it is they want Perry to do with them, but unnecessarily complicated and over-equipped by a factor of five, with a half-cooked mystical idea, and failing miserably, until Perry rolls her eyes, picks up a spatula, and gets it done in the next five minutes—then goes back to staring at a wall, or out a window, and not responding to anyone but Laf. 

Also, somehow, Perry managed to find a place that sold ice cream. In the Styrian wilderness? That’s a feat. 

If she knew how to talk to the girl, she would; she remembers the “woo-woo” sophomore enchanted with the world, ideas bigger than her capacity to execute them or comprehend their fallout, and thinks she hasn’t unclenched since that one evening they spent locked in a basement with Titania. 

Thinks that that would’ve been a lot more fixable before _Maman_ possessed her. There’s two different traumas at work here: Perry locking out all awareness of the mystical, intentionally cutting herself off from the power around her, from unintended consequences and harm, and Perry being locked in her own body with a god. 

But as it is, Carmilla’s having trouble consistently remembering that she doesn’t need to drink blood anymore. 

She’d thought that playing house would give Laura some normalcy, too; a sense of control, and maybe she’d start helping Perry with things around the place, and it’d be good for both of them. But if it does, it doesn’t change the fact that, miserably, Laura considers Carmilla part of their household, and acts accordingly: 

“Carm, you’re lactose-intolerant. I love you, but your farts are _definitely_ worse than your bite.” 

Or, maybe, none of them do “normal” very well anymore, if they ever did, and Laura is no exception: 

“Carm, tell me if I’m jumping at shadows, but are those crows flying in an portentous pattern?” 

“Oh my god. I think I just felt an earthquake. Did you feel it too?” (“No, Laura, you’re just extremely bored.”)

Or, maybe, when it comes down to it—Laura just has to solve everyone’s problems: 

“What if someone started, like, a collective for the werewolves at Silas?” 

“… You mean like a pack?” 

“No, I mean, like, a _collective_. To advocate for their rights and give lycanthropy-afflicted students a sense of camaraderie and belonging.” Carmilla has to look at her. One hundred percent serious. 

Almost settled into a routine. Keyword: almost. 

Oh, who is she kidding. They were all going crazy anyways. Including her. And it had been what—three weeks? 

//

It was a sunny day. That should’ve been Carmilla’s first warning. 

She wanted it to mean the apocalyptic weather that they’d seen previously was just an effect of _Maman’s_ presence, and now that she’d gotten what she needed, her hellish effect on the weather was abating. Styria could have some sunny days, right? As long as there were no gods bent on digging their way to the underworld holding the place in their grip. 

_Maman_ was gone; anything was possible. 

Including the wolf the size of a pony currently emerging from the forest and making its way towards the four of them where they were _trying_ to have a picnic (Laura’s idea; blame Laura—it’s usually her fault anyone poked whatever bear that’s currently pissed at them). 

The four of them are all on their feet; Carmilla with one hand on Laura’s arm, trying to pull her back; Laf carefully still in place. Perry… 

Perry throws one arm out in the direction of the wolf and shouts something in what sounds like Sumerian (fuck her, she never thought she'd be able to recognize the language on hearing it, in all her three-hundred-plus years of existence). The knife they’d been using to cut into the cheese flies and buries itself in the wolf’s side. The wolf yelps. Perry claps a hand over her mouth, a look of horror on her face, then runs back towards the house. 

It doesn’t chase after Perry, which is the first thing that bothers Carmilla; the next most immediate thing is that it’s not like a typical gray wolf on steroids, and it’s not that characteristic all-black or all-white that usually signals some kind of mystical shit in play—but it’s definitely mystical. It’s fucking _red_ ; coloring more similar to a fox in the lighter spots, darkening to this golden-brown color, which—those don’t frequent Styria. Or… anywhere. It doesn’t run away, either, although it backs up, whining. After a few more meters, it lays down and starts licking at the knife in its side. 

“Shit.” Laf hisses beside them when they see Perry running. “I have to—I have to go after her.” They look back at the wolf, still whining and licking its side. “I need something to fix that wound.” They hesitate, caught, staring at the wolf, shaking their head. “That wolf is way too calm.” 

“Go!” Carmilla pushes at their shoulder. Laf takes off. 

Carmilla turns around to see Laura walking towards the wolf. Of fucking course. 

“Laura!” You’d _think_ a girl who grew up with homemade bear spray would know better than to approach an animal whose jaws could comfortably fit your face inside them. 

“It’s okay!” As if on cue, the wolf looks up from its licking and growls softly. “Or… not?” She takes another step forward. _Oh my god._ The wolf growls briefly again, then whines. Another step. 

_This is it_ , Carmilla thinks, _She’s gonna die, right in front of me._

Laura’s holding her hand out. The wolf is sniffing it. Carmilla’s seeing flashes of Laura with one hand gone. 

The wolf lowers its head. Laura’s hand looks small on its gorgeous broad forehead. 

_Goddamn it._

//

Laf works on the wolf while Laura holds its massive head in her lap. “Works”; they're waving their gloved hands around, barely any blood on them at all. 

"It… I mean, it’s almost healed already." Laf says. "I thought the cut was just shallower than I thought, but—it started closing up as soon as the knife was out." 

"Oh, good. Mystical." Carmilla paces a few meters away. Sue her if she doesn't want to lose a limb if the wolf decides it doesn't want to play with them all of a sudden. 

"I mean, the fact that it’s literally ginger wasn't indication enough?" 

Carmilla shakes her head, a foreboding feeling in her guts. _Ginger_. Mystical. Healing. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t like gingers.” Laf looks mildly shocked by this revelation. 

“I’m surprised you gave it enough thought to narrow it down,” Laf remarks. 

Carmilla glares. Laura looks thoughtful, one hand buried in its considerable neck ruff. 

Carmilla sighs. “Are you really gonna do this?” 

Laura realizes Carmilla's talking to her. "I mean, what are we supposed to do? We hurt it." 

"And, like Laf just said, it's almost healed." 

"Look, it didn’t attack us, alright? Perry did... whatever she did. And it’s clearly mystical. I don't want it to fall into the hands of some kind of... hunters, okay?" 

Carmilla sighs. There’s a giant ginger elephant in the room that no one wants to discuss. 

"Why do I get the feeling you’re doing this for another reason, too?" Carmilla asks finally. 

Laura’s hand buries itself in the wolf’s fur. “I’m allowed to be sad, Carm.” 

Carmilla sighs again. “Yeah. Yeah, you are.” She stares at the—it’s a dire wolf. There’s really no other word for it. Her nose wrinkles slowly. She bites back half a dozen comments about adopting a ginger dire wolf that's probably god-marked but at the very least will eat them all—out of nostalgia for a girl who, if she were still alive, and not undead running around crazed with bloodlust, Carmilla would still happily kill. “Can you just—make sure it doesn’t have fleas? I can’t believe I have to worry about those again.” 

Laura glances up, a softly puzzled look in her eyes. Carmilla sighs; Yep, new mystery. 

“Yeah,” Laura says, voice distracted, “Of course.” 

//

Dinner is uncomfortable; Laura takes a turn at cooking. It's probably the first thing she's cooked in months. It comes out accordingly. 

Everyone tries to eat with Perry there. Like they're not all sideyeing her. Perry sits and eats and looks only at her food; acts like nothing at all happened. 

Carmilla really doesn't have time for this bullshit. 

"Perry," She says, and Perry meets her eyes for the first time, and maybe if she were still a vampire, she’d pick up on something, whatever Perry’s locked away inside her. But she isn’t, so she can’t; so all she sees is this neutral composure that’s actually a little intimidating, facing it down, knowing it doesn’t always know rational bounds. 

"I didn't know that _Maman_ left you gifts." She says, because that's what they are, to her. Gifts; or scraps that _Maman_ hadn't seen fit to clean up. 

After all, what's a telekinetic spell to a god? 

Perry's eyes go wide. “I—I don't know what you mean." 

Ah. The repression strategy. 

Carmilla nods. What else can you do? "If you remember anything, or you want to talk, you aren't the only one _Maman_ used. She used all of us. But none more harshly than you. You shouldn't have to carry all that if you don't want to." 

Perry pauses. Something flickers in her eyes. A moment of openness. And then it's gone again. 

"Thank you." She says softly. Rote. 

That's all that Carmilla can do. She picks up her fork and continues eating. 

That peace lasts for all of about two seconds. All of them jump—including the dire wolf—when Laf slams down their fork. 

"That's _it_????" They look thunderstruck. "That's _the most_ you can do???" Carmilla's not completely clear who they're chewing out—her, or Perry. 

She pipes up. Better her than the traumatized woman with who knows what level of godlike power. "She answered the question. If she wants to, I assume she'll tell me." 

Laf snorts. Takes an angry bite. It's the most enthusiasm anyone's shown for any of the food all evening. "You're unbelievable". 

Carmilla feels her hackles rise. "It's called _respecting someone who's been through trauma_. I'm not her childhood best friend, so all I have to go on is normal adult social cues." 

Laf looks incredulous. 

"She's fine, Laf." Perry says softly. 

"But it's _not fine_! You won't even acknowledge what happened! And you could've _hurt_ someone, Per! You could _still_ hurt someone! We need to understand what happened so we can help! We need to know so that—“ 

Carmilla can see Perry's knuckles whitening on the fork. Finally, the fork clatters to the plate and Perry is standing, pushed away from the table, utterly and completely still. 

"I do not. Want. To be _understood_." Her voice is low. "I don't want to be experimented on. I don't want to relive it. I don't want to recount any of it. Because it—it didn't happen! It can't have happened!" 

Laura—Carmilla has to bite her tongue to stop from groaning out loud— _has_ to put her two cents in. "Per—we love you. And we trust you. We just—we want to make sure that you can control this—“ 

"I am ONE HUNDRED PERCENT UNDER CONTROL!" Perry almost screams, hands balled in fists at her sides. 

Carmilla watches the plates shudder and lift off the table. 

Yep. This was a super positive outcome using her diplomatic skills. Remind her never to try that again. 

Laf and Laura are both talking, scrambling to get their respective feet out of their mouths, and the plates are rising higher and higher. The forks are sharp, and pointy, and spinning lazily in a way that the plates aren't. Like they're waiting for a direction. 

Carmilla doesn't know where in her memories (she has a lot of them, okay) it comes from; a song that _Maman_ sang to her, or Mattie, once—something like a nursery song, while a very different version of her crawled around in pools of gore. It's not in French, or any language she's ever heard; not even Sumerian. Something older, maybe; or maybe it's the language Mattie spoke as a human. Her sister, singing her through the transformation, the rage, the new strength. But the melody rises out of her throat, and Laf and Laura stop talking. 

Perry's eyes fly open. Stare, wide and terrified. It occurs to her she doesn't actually know what she's singing about, but Perry might very well know. Oh, well. She's already committed. And—hey—at least the plates aren't levitating any _higher_ anymore. 

Laura and Laf stay quiet— _finally_ —and Carmilla doesn't move. Fingers of one hand resting on the handle of her fork, where they were when things got weird, holding Perry's gaze. 

This could all go very, very badly. But it was already going badly. 

She sees Perry take a shuddery breath and glance around her at the plates. She tries to give her any look that's not, _Yeah, holy fuck, what is this shit?_ —preferably something encouraging. Perry's eyes find hers again. Carmilla blinks, slowly. _Whoops. Cat brain._

Perry mirrors it. _Okay. Not so bad._ Carmilla nods encouragingly. Takes a breath to start the next verse. Perry—bless her—tries to do the same. It's shaky and shallow. 

Everyone startles again when the plates drop out of the air with a crash. Food goes flying. Oh well. It's not like it was that great anyways. Carmilla keeps singing straight through it, and Perry's fists relax minutely. Some color returns to her knuckles. 

She lets the song drop off after that verse ends. Laf and Laura look around at everyone. Carmilla holds Perry's gaze. 

Carmilla quirks her lips in a faint smile. "You did well." 

Perry blinks. Looks around. Sees the broken plates. "No. Nonono—“ Carmilla can imagine what she might be reliving in her head. _Just… hold still. Hold still. Steady._

It doesn't stop Perry from backing out of the kitchen. Or running up the stairs to where she'd been hiding all day until Laura talked her down for dinner. But it does keep anything else from levitating—or straight-up exploding—so Carmilla counts that as a win. 

Laf starts to move like they're going after her. Carmilla practically lunges around the table to catch their arm. Misses her vampire speed, for the eighty billionth time. Laf glares at her. Carmilla glares back. 

"I think you've helped enough for one day." 

//

“Alright. Full moon is in… four days.” Laura’s pacing the dining area; has been for the past half hour. 

Carmilla cocks an eyebrow. “And that means…?” 

Laura deflates. “Nothing. Probably. Just… dire wolves are super rare, and they don’t like people. They’re super hard to domesticate, so either someone owned this one previously—” 

“Gee, I wonder what happened to them.” Carmilla quips. Laura ignores her. 

“—Or this isn’t a dire wolf.” 

“But you and Laf confirmed it was a dire wolf, right?” 

Laura hedges a bit. “Well—it looks like one. It’s not a werewolf. It has the right morphological characteristics for a dire wolf—apart from the color—and it’s the right size— _she’s_ the right size, it’s a she—I mean— _they_ , I know better than to gender a dire wolf, dammit. Fishsticks. _Ugh_.” She stops. Blows out a breath. 

“Don’t strain anything, sweetheart.” Laura shoots her a Look. 

Laura gathers herself back up. “Alright. What looks like a dire wolf, talks like a dire wolf—and isn’t a dire wolf?” 

Laf turns a book around and slides it across the table to Laura. 

“Holyshit.” Laura looks up. “But those are associated with—Artemis. Diana. The goddesses of the Hunt.” 

Laf nods. 

“Patron goddesses of the Summer Society.” 

“Yep.” 

“Oh. Oh, wow.” Laura reads. Frowns. “I don’t recall seeing that mark anywhere on the wolf.” 

“Same. We can check again?” 

Laura nods. Then—“Wait. I want to find more options while we’re both here and focused.” 

“Sounds good. I was also thinking about this…” Laf turns their computer to face Laura. Carmilla gets up and pads to the kitchen to get more ice cream. 

The twenty-first century has made some _amazing_ progress with food. “Lactose intolerance” be damned. 

She’s gonna die someday anyways. Might as well eat the ice cream. 

// 

Laura usually feeds the dire wolf (and occasionally, the dire wolf tries to feed _them_. It’s hilarious). But everyone usually stands around and watches. Except for Perry. 

The wolf seems to know that Perry was responsible for the knife in its side, and is accordingly wary (Carmilla hopes it’s not wary for any other reasons). Perry, for her part, doesn’t want to be in the room with a giant wolf that growls every time it sees her. Carmilla can appreciate that; it doesn’t have to be because of _Maman_. 

One morning, while Carmilla’s drinking her coffee and hiding from the two nerds, she hears someone clear their throat. She lifts her gaze to find Perry. 

Carmilla bites back her usual sarcastic response. “Something I can help you with?” 

Perry chews on her lip. “Can… can you come with me? To help feed the wolf?” 

Carmilla frowns. “Laura’s really more the “dog whisperer” around here—“ Perry’s face shutters, and Carmilla remembers dinner a few nights ago. Sighs internally. Briefly misses being a vampire for the thousandth time, because honestly, these humans are not going to make it very long without muscle. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.” She sets down her coffee; changes her mind and picks it up again. 

Fuck if she’s going to die without finishing this cup. 

The wolf—as expected—doesn’t react well to seeing Perry’s face. But, Carmilla has to admit, she’s seen wolves that looked way more pissed off. A growl isn’t _good_ , when the other three of them have cuddled with it by now (for the record, Carmilla has only cuddled it by proxy), but its face is smooth and its ears don’t go completely flat. To her credit, Perry doesn’t show much in the way of fear, apart from the whitening of her knuckles. 

She doesn’t get close, and Carmilla stays by her side the whole way. Just far enough to set down the food, and then back away slowly. 

By the time they’re safely away, the wolf has stopped growling, and is tilting its head to study them. 

Carmilla can hear Laura squealing “Ohhhhhhhhhh it’s so ADORABLE!” in her head. 

//

The upside of having something more mystical than a textbook to pore over is that Laura is more… pleasant-Laura. She’s sweet (distracted, really) when she wants something from Carmilla. Doesn’t ask her about the omens hidden in corvid flight patterns. She’s fully occupied with this project. 

Laf brings over their mystical science kit. Nerditude ensues. Carmilla is left blessedly unmolested. 

The downside is that Laura literally brings her projects to bed. Just like she did in school. Falling asleep on her projects. Midterm papers. Finals. 

Carmilla smacks herself in the forehead when she walks into Laura’s room not three days from when the wolf showed up and sees Laura passed out half-curled up next to the giant rust-colored dire wolf. On their bed, of course. 

Trust Lawrence to get back into everyone’s good graces by showing up as a ravening dire wolf—while the humans proceed to treat her like a literal puppy. 

“If that’s you in there, Ginger Spice, swear to god, I’m gonna… swear to God.” She curls up on the bed next to Laura. Laura murmurs and wraps an arm around her. Carmilla closes her eyes. 

A moment later, they’re open again. “Nope. Nope, can’t do it.” She moves off the bed and pads out to the couch. 

//

The night of the full moon, Carmilla comes back to Laura’s room to find Laura staring into her closet, looking at an item she’s never seen before. 

“I didn’t know you kept that.” 

Laura jumps. “Oh, God, Carm.” She puts a hand over her heart. Looks at the jacket guiltily. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I—there just wasn’t much _left_ … of anything. I didn’t want all of it to be lost. I… I guess that’s kinda weird, isn’t it. Keeping your dead-then-undead ex’s monster-hunting sorority letterman’s jacket when you have a girlfriend.” 

“I think people need to keep parts of the people they loved with them, if those people are gone. Or those times. Or places.” She reaches out and lays her hand over the back of Laura’s. “She mattered to you.” 

Laura swallows hard. “She _mattered_. Period.” Carmilla nods. You don’t kill a thousand-year-old vampire if you’re not… made from something a little different than the rest. Even if you know _how_ to kill her. It takes something to act on that knowledge. To not freeze at their touch. 

“I’m sorry, this—this is probably super weird.” Laura stuffs the jacket away and sniffles. She turns around and Carmilla catches her in her arms. 

“Hey.” Carmilla squeezes her gently. She doesn’t know if she’ll get used to the feeling of their hearts trembling so close together, like this. 

“Hey.” Laura’s voice is muffled in her shoulder. “Have I mentioned I love you?” 

Carmilla laughs. “Ouch. Y’know, I _know_ you’re not just with me because you had no other options, but if you keep that up, I’m gonna develop a complex.” 

Laura laughs shakily. “I don’t—I still—” She takes a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to un-learn all those things, y’know? I… I _died_. My heart stopped, I was _gone_. But—everything you said, about wanting you to be different, to not be “bad” anymore, it didn’t stop. I didn’t… get perspective, or come back wiser. And all those things about being “normal”, they’re still there, and I don’t know what to do with them—and now that it’s quiet, they’re all I can hear. 

“Saying _Don’t talk about your ex in front of your current girlfriend. Pretend you didn’t feel something_. Pretend she didn’t die in your arms. Pretend some part of you isn’t glad that since you didn’t get to keep her… you got that. That last little spark.” 

Carmilla hums. Bent; she can do bent. “And her letterman’s jacket.” 

Laura nods. “It feels wrong—I should, I don’t know, just wish that she was alive, that she didn’t die in the first place. But I’m just… greedy. I know I’m supposed to “rise above”, or whatever, but—I feel so screwed up. Not even dying can fix that.” 

“Welcome to the world, baby.” She places the tip of her index finger under Laura’s chin and tilts it up. Those wide raw eyes shimmer. “I know a couple things about greed. Want me to show you?” 

Laura’s eyes darken and her gaze drops to Carmilla’s mouth. 

//

"You know," Laura murmurs later, when everything's dark and they’re drifting off with their heartbeats thrumming in sync, "I’d do the same for you, if you were stuck as that giant black cat. You know that, right?" 

Carmilla sighs. It’s exactly why she can't hang onto any of her—arguably justified—anger over this situation. 

Whether it's lecturing Carmilla about her dietary restrictions or fixating on a giant mystical animal with no guarantee that "Danny Lawrence" is the message they’re supposed to receive, Laura would seize on any thread if it means her family might be whole again. If it means her friends might be alright. 

"Yeah," Carmilla murmurs, "Yeah, I know." 

//

The next morning, Carmilla slips out to get coffee by herself, before anyone else wakes up. 

The letterman’s jacket was folded neatly on the corner of the couch—or clearly had been, at some point. 

At some point during the night, the dire wolf had dragged it onto the floor and curled up on it to sleep. 

//

Carmilla comes back later that day to find Laf and Laura looking over—what else—a video recording of the previous night. Both of them are so intent that they don’t even acknowledge when she trips over the edge of a rug and stumbles into the kitchen. 

When Carmilla comes back later, they’re eating what she assumes—based on their dejected expressions—is consolation ice cream. 

//

Perry makes more trips out to feed the wolf, with Carmilla and with Laura and Laf. The wolf has stopped growling at her. It’s even thumped its tail on the ground once or twice. 

Perry looks at it with a pained expression while it eats. Carmilla doesn’t need to hear her repeat it under her breath, but if she stands close enough, she can hear Perry apologize in a voice that’s barely a voice: “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

//

Laura has decided that the _new_ moon might actually provide the metaphysical _oomph_ to shift the wolf back to… Not Danny. 

Nope. Definitely… Not Danny. That’s for sure. 

(Probably because, when the new moon passes, and the wolf is still Not Danny, that makes it easier.)

//

Carmilla comes outside the night after the new moon, and Laura is staring at the sky. There’s a tension in her shoulders, a little bit like when she’s scanning the sky for omens. 

Laura Hollis doesn’t look for omens; Laura Hollis _is_ an omen. Carmilla sighs. 

“Slipping” up to sit next to her on the ledge isn’t as sneaky as it used to be. Probably for the best; if she could be entirely silent, and Laura was _really_ focused, she could startle her enough to make her fall off, and Carmilla doesn’t have the reflexes for that anymore. 

“Y’know, _I’m_ the one who’s supposed to be looking at the stars and brooding. Of the two of us.” 

Laura looks at her, and there’s a hollowness there that Carmilla’s seen grow into too many faces. Too many faces that never outlived it, never could do more than bend for it. 

She wants to be mad about it. She’s said it before, but it both is and isn’t relevant. _Do you know what the world lost when Mattie died? Do you know what_ I _lost?_

Mourning is mourning. 

It’d be far too simplistic to say that she’s glad Danny is gone because that means she “won”. If someone had to die for you to get the girl, you weren’t all that interesting to begin with. Also, it’s _petty_. Carmilla’s developed a lot of bad habits, after three hundred years on this planet; petty isn’t one of those things that sticks around after that kind of time. Not when you can literally outlive anything. 

And she's not _glad_ about this. She wanted to like Danny. Wanted to _not_ like Danny; liked that it was impossible to not feel something for her. She was righteous, and formidable, and pulled her out of that fucking _pit_ when anyone less honorable might've just left her there. 

Why'd she have to do the one thing that would break Carmilla's heart? (She knows why. And that's why it's awful. _Maman_ played them all; knew Danny would kill for her sisters. Knew Carmilla would kill for hers.) 

(And if not, well, _Maman_ has never had trouble finding a man dumb or desperate enough to do her dirty work.) 

Laura’s given her space for her own grief, and even if she hadn’t, Carmilla knows reverence, knows utter silence, knows infinite quiet. And staring with someone into the endless quiet, sharing that with them? She slides one hand onto Laura’s thigh. Their heartbeats are so loud; so loud. Blood so hot, the rush noise enough to break the silence. She didn’t hear it, not until she lost it. 

This isn’t silence. But they’re sitting on the edge of it. 

“I wanted it to be her.” Laura’s voice is hushed. Is rough with unshed tears. 

“I know.” She strokes her thumb over the denim. “She’s out there, somewhere.” Annoyingly. “She’ll be okay.” “Okay” is maybe not the right word. But she’ll be alright—if she can make it through mentally. If she has the will to crawl out of the coffin, Carmilla thinks, she’ll come through. 

“I’m sorry. It’s not fair to you.” 

“It’s not about fair. Never has been.” So human. “If it _is_ her—” 

“It’s _not_.” Laura cuts her off, eyes finally overflowing. “It can’t be, I’ve tried everything, Laf and I, we’ve tried _everything_. It’s just a stupid dire wolf. I’m so stupid.” 

“‘A stupid dire wolf.’” Carmilla repeats. Laura snorts softly. “You know there are biologists who would literally kill to get their hands on one of those, right?” 

Laura sniffles. “All but one of whom are probably employed by Silas.” She looks at Carmilla like she just realized something. “Also look at you. Since when d’you care about biologists?” 

“Since you kinda became one.” 

“I’m not a biologist. I’m… an amateur. A dabbler. At best. I’m just worried about my… Danny. I’m just worried about Danny.” 

“Everyone’s an amateur, babe. Until finally you wake up and realize it’s two hundred years down the line and you’re the most knowledgeable person on the subject.” Carmilla mock-shudders. “You become whatever it is you need to be. If you survive, you’re not an amateur anymore.” 

“‘Survive”, huh?” 

“Yeah, it’s a bit muddy, isn’t it?” 

Laura lets out a half-laugh. 

“Besides, that dire wolf thinks you’re its mom, now. You’ve got a friend for life. And it expects to be allowed on the bed.” 

Laura groans. “Oh, god, it sheds so much.” Carmilla laughs. 

//

Perry’s shouting wakes them up the next morning. After a moment, Carmilla realizes it’s their names. 

Her and Laura look at each other for a beat. The two of them scramble for the living room. 

They skid to a halt. Laf bursts in through the other door. Carmilla realizes her hands are empty. Realizes, again, that that won’t fly anymore. Laura has a belt in her hand. 

“Really? What are you gonna do, offer to belt it?” 

Laura glares at her. “What are _you_ gonna do, smolder at it?” 

Perry’s in one piece—thankfully. She’s backed up against the wall, one hand over her mouth. There’s a look on her face that’s not quite horror, but not quite not, either. She points to the couch. “It—it let me touch it—and then—and then it—“ 

Carmilla’s heart sinks. She can see Laura’s shoulders slump. They trudge around the couch. 

Carmilla has to tilt her head and blink a few times to make sense of what she sees. The belt falls out of Laura’s hand. “Oh my god.” 

“More like “Oh my dog.’” Laf quips, not a trace of laughter on their face. 

Carmilla just groans and facepalms. 

In the exact spot the dire wolf was curled up the night before is a very naked, very alive and breathing… Danny Lawrence. 

"I _cannot_ be expected to share a bed with her."


End file.
